


“Redistribute”

by TumbleSnout



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Arthur Whump, Canon Compliant, Chapter 4: Shady Belle, Characters and relationships will be updated but I don’t wanna spoil things, Drowning, Gen, Graphic Depiction of Drowning, How Do I Tag, Hurt, Hurt Arthur Morgan, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, In which Arthur Morgan gets beaten with a shovel, Injury, Micah’s companion mission, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Whump, i should be doing requests, im sorry, minor spoilers up to Urban Pleasures, sadie adler sparked my bisexuality, so if that’s a trigger steer clear, sorta - Freeform, then it goes way off the rails
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-11-27 09:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18192902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TumbleSnout/pseuds/TumbleSnout
Summary: Basically Micah’s companion mission.But it’s also not.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arwriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arwriter/gifts).



> TYSM for your supportive comments, AR! They make my day and keep me motivated! God, you’re there for every update and i’m BEYOND grateful! Ty to everyone else as well! You’ve been noticed! Thank you Gunderlinde, Argetlam, Queerer, Poly, Tex, Kaspooky, and everyone else! These are just some of the people i’ve seen consistent attention from. Requests are coming, I promise! After “Whoops”, i’ll be doing an alternate ending for the mission “Urban Pleasures”, another request. I just had an idea for this and I got a sudden burst of motivation for it!
> 
> Thank you to my Beta, Abbi!

“Hey, Morgan, c’mere.”

Arthur paused in his strides towards Pearson’s wagon, where he was about to ask him what he needed as far as provisions went. Micah was sitting atop a barrel, fiddling with his knife. He sighed, rolling his eyes, and stalked over to see what he needed.

“What you want?”

Micah sat up, yawning.

“Always full of sunshine, ain’t you? Old “Misery guts Morgan”!”

“ _What you want_ , Micah?”

“Well, I... I want a friend, Arthur. I want hope. I want tomorrow to mean more than today, I want this damn _shitshow_  to have some kinda meanin’ I haven’t yet understood!”

Micah sighed.  
“But... I ain’t holdin’ my breath.”

Arthur scoffed in response, leaning against a tree.

“I wouldn’t.”

“But, instead of that, how about you and me go and _redistribute_ some property?”

“Redistribute?”

“Yup.”

Arthur didn’t miss the way he popped the “P”.

“From the Boles Overland Stagecoach Company,” He continued, “ _Into_ our pockets.”

Arthur considered his options. In actuality, Micah was a good shot. He certainly wasn’t deadweight on the jobs themselves, but around camp he tended to be an asshole. He yelled at the women, tried to intimidate or drag down others, attempted to get into Dutch’s head, and generally annoyed everyone else. Arthur was pretty sure he’d never seen him do a chore in his damn life, always sitting off to the side with a cigarette or brooding by the campfire with his knife. And he’d have a damn hard time forgiving him for the whole Blackwater mess. But...

A job was a job. Arthur couldn’t deny that they needed the money.

“And you’ll fight this time?”

Micah snapped at that, furious.

“ _I always fight_!”

“No, you always talk. But with coaches...”

He put his hands into his pockets, trying to seem as uninterested as possible. 

“Guns are more significant.”

“Oh, I’m just _fine_ with both, friend.”

“Yeah, come on, then.”

Micah laughed, jumping up from the barrel as he yanked his knife from the wood, trotting alongside Arthur.

They started to make their way over to the horses, Baylock’s head perking upon seeing his rider. Micah didn’t love a lot of things as much as that horse.

 _Apart from his damn guns,_ He remembered bitterly.

Whiskey gave an excited whicker at his approach, trotting over and nearly toppling Micah. Arthur couldn’t hold back a chuckle as he reached into his satchel, pulling out a carrot for the sooty buckskin stallion. He took it eagerly, allowing Arthur to climb into the saddle.

”Let’s go, Boy.”

He gave a cluck and they were off, with Micah trotting up in front of him to take the lead.

”So, where’s this coach anyway?”

Micah wiped his nose, spurring Baylock into a canter.

”Up in Scarlett Meadows, by Clemen’s point. It’s due soon, so quit coddling that damn horse. I don’t see why it only likes you and that damn O’Driscoll boy.”

Arthur scoffed.

”He just don’t like you. Course, I don’t blame him, who doesn’t hate you?”

Micah pretended not to hear his comment, but scowled anyway, giving him a pang of satisfaction.

”It’s a damn shame what happened to that Kieran boy. Was just startin’ to warm up to him.”

Arthur scoffed again but didn’t say anything, refusing to give him the satisfaction. That was complete and utter horse shit. Micah bell hadn’t warmed up to anything but his own hand and a bottle of-

**_BANG._ **


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> my brain: HEY U GOTTA PUT OFF THE REQUESTS AND OTHER WORKS  
> me: what why???????  
> my brain: U JUST GOTTA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah I know it’s short I can’T WRITE MORE THAN LIKE 700 WORDS AT A TIME AND IDK WHY ???

Searing pain shot through his shoulder, and Arthur couldn’t help but scream as the bullet tore through it. Whiskey, panicking, reared up and threw him from the saddle, knocking the wind out of him.

Arthur gasped for air, writhing in pain on the ground as Micah laughed.

Micah.

Micah had set him up.

He reached for his holster, furious, when suddenly he was being kicked forward, a boot planted on his back. Arthur struggled under the pressure, cursing and kicking out.

”GET OFF’A ME!”

A lucky strike managed to hit his attacker between the legs and the weight disappeared as the stranger howled in pain and fury. He reached desperately for his holster again, grabbing his Volcanic and rolling over, time seeming to slow down as he entered Deadeye.

Micah managed to simply  _swat_ the gun away as it went off, and it skidded through the dirt with a clatter. He chuckled darkly as he reared his foot back with a hop, slamming it between his legs-

His life flashed before his fucking eyes, with Arthur unable to even scream as he curled in on himself with a pathetic wheeze. He’d been hit much harder than he’d hit his attacker. He faintly recognized Micah laughing, along with a stranger groaning. Micah barked an order at someone else, but Arthur was fixated on holding back tears, screwing his eyes shut.

”Yeah, just- I dunno, use the damn shovel, Joe! Don’t kill him yet. And Cleet, quit  _whinin’!”_

_Shovel? Joe? Cleet?_

Arthur had been too focused on not throwing up to listen to the previous orders, but that caught his attention.

Arthur just managed to open his eyes, only to catch sight of dull, rusted metal flying at his face. It collided with his nose and he let out a shout, hands temporarily moving from his manhood to his face as he recognized the metallic tang of blood running down his soft pallet. 

His world spun, darkness encroaching on the edges of his vision, and he gasped, unable to fend off the second blow as his world exploded into pain and nothingness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “picked him up after you boys came back from the Caribbean” MY ASS HE WAS A RAT THE WHOLE MFING TIME DON’T FUCK WITH ME MILTON
> 
> I should be sleeping

Arthur seriously regretted waking up.

Jesus, how long had he been out? Judging by the burning on his skin, it’d been a couple of hours. The sunlight thrusted icepicks into his corneas, sending nails into his throbbing skull. As soon as he opened them, he screwed them shut with a low groan, instinctively reaching for his face. He quickly realized that his wrists and ankles had been bound tightly, and his heart jumped when his brain realized how much danger he was in.

”Cleet, Joe, finish up, it should be deep enough, anyway.”

Arthur wasn’t sure if he groaned internally or externally this time, but he didn’t like the sound of any of that. What the hell had-

Oh.

Micah.

_Slimy ass rat, damn possum lookin’ ass, I oughta-_

Arthur let out a muffled yelp of pain as a boot collided with his rib cage, struggling against his newfound binds. His eyes shot open again, adrenaline and  _fear_ coursing through his veins. He started to let out a slew of curses from his dry mouth before realizing that he was  _gagged._ His own hankercheif had been wadded up and shoved into his mouth, with his bandana keeping it in place. Arthur shook his head in a futile attempt to force it out as Micah chuckled darkly, leaning over him.

”Good morning, cowpoke. How’s the nose?”

Oh boy, if looks could kill, Micah would be dead where he stood.

”Y’know, Morgan, I envy you. See,  _you_ get a way out. No noose. Just... a pretty sunset as the tide comes in. Painless. Peaceful. No mess.”

Arthur glared, attempting to sit up. Micah planted a boot on his stomach, however, forcing him back down. He leaned in close, and he was almost glad his nose was so broken and swollen it was nearly useless, although he could hardly breathe.

Jesus, had Micah  _ever_ brushed his damn teeth?

When he started to let out that damned giggle again, he’d had enough.

Arthur reared his head back and slammed it forward into Micah’s face, getting a rush of satisfaction from the crack and howl of pain he released. Micah stumbled back, holding his nose. Rage burned in his eyes.

”Joe, give me the shovel,”

Arthur couldn’t even hear the reply from the other man, too focused on his throbbing temples. A headbutt hadn’t exactly helped with the pain, and he quickly regretted it.

Although breaking Micah’s stupid fucking nose had been pretty worth it, he’d admit.

”Just give me the  _fucking SHOVEL!”_

He snapped, grabbing the tool when it was tossed to him.

There was still blood on it from earlier. Arthur shuddered.

He didn’t have much time to be unnerved, however, as Micah held it above his head and swung it down onto his knee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol you’ll see what they’re digging be patient children


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey y’all, I know you’re probably hoping for a better and longer update but it’s kinda short and low quality today due to my health. I need some whump but I can’t even focus enough to write it. This is probably all i’ve got for you today, a half finished chapter, even though they’re already short. :(((
> 
> this lumbago tb bullshit is killing me I’m coughing up my damn lungs like Arthur Morgan
> 
> Ty for understanding y’all, and ty for all the sweet comments on previous chapters

Arthur didn’t think there was a single inch of his body unscathed.

Micah dropped the shovel, panting until it morphed into a dark chuckle.

”You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that, cowpoke.”

His knee was busted, shattered by the shovel. Fresh cuts littered his body, blood seeping sluggishly into his torn clothes. On top of that, there was still a bullet in his shoulder. Arthur bit down into the gag, clenching his fists and arching his back in pain. He’d screamed enough for a lifetime in about ten minutes.

He gasped in pain as a hand grabbed his shirt collar, dragging him towards the water. He couldn’t even hold back a cry and a sob as his knee flared up, agony coursing through his entire body.

”No more fight, huh, Morgan? That’s a shame; I was _havin’ fun_.”

A second pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and hefted him up, causing him to cry out again as weight was forced onto his injured leg and his bullet wound was aggravated. Blood, sweat, and dirt coated his forehead and dampened his hair as he let his head loll to the side, glaring at Micah.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god what the fuck dude i’ve never had such bad body aches sweet jesus help me

Hands were under his shoulders, forcing him upright. Arthur winced but didn’t try to say anything.

It wouldn’t do him much good, anyway.

”Stand up, Morgan.”

He simply hung there, eyes drooping. He was in too much pain to keep his weight up. Aches and pains rolled through his body in waves. Arthure hadn’t thought anything could top his experience with the O’Driscolls.

Boy, was he wrong.

”Dammit,  _stand up!_ ”

Micah kicked the back of his busted knee, sending him to the dirt with a scream of agony. Tears welled in his eyes, and pain threatened to drag him under.

”Fine, but you ain’t gettin’ out of this, Cowpoke. Joe, dump him in.”

Micah’s voice grated at his head, sending knives through his ears and into his brain. 

“Ain’t we gonna-“

”It’s close enough to the water anyway. We’ll fill it later. He broke my damn nose, that’s gonna take some explaining. Morgan here ain’t even worth the bullet.”

A foot prodded his side, but he couldn’t bring himself to even care anymore. Everything hurt. He was too exhausted to really comprehend what they were saying, but Arthur was practically begging for them to kill him already.

He’d done some bad things, but he wouldn’t wish this pain on anybody. Not even Micah himself.

Probably.

A hand grabbed the back of his collar, hauling his face up from the dirt and sand. He let his head hang, too tired to open his eyes. Arthur whimpered when his bad leg dragged through the mud, sending pain shooting up his knee.

Suddenly, the man let go and he dropped, but there was nothing for his head or chest to slam into. Instead, he tumbled into something. Arthur’s heart lurched and he forced his eyes open only to find the ground rushing up to meet him.

He landed in a shallow pool of water on his face, his lower body rearing up in a full scorpion before coming back down with a splash. He gasped, gathering the strength to roll over with a groan, which in turn caused Micah to chuckle.

”Look, Morgan, we did you a favor and dug you a nice little grave so the animals don’t get to your corpse.”

He regained focus on his surroundings and found himself in a muddy pit, maybe five feet deep. A pool of mud and water had formed at the bottom, soaking into his clothes and making him shiver.

A shallow, open grave.

”See, A chain is only as strong as it’s weakest link, Morgan. And you? Well, it seems you’ve gone soft. Always doubtin’ old Dutch, after everything he’s done for you? It makes me sick.”

Arthur simply glared, waiting for him to put a bullet in his throbbing skull. 

“Always... insistin’ on keeping the deadweight around over sentiment. We’ve got an addict, Marston’s son, Uncle, a mutt, and a bunch’a women who wouldn’t fuck you if you had a gun to their head. We’d already be in  _Tahiti_ by now if we were trying to get ten people a new life, instead of twenty.”

Suddenly, cold water trickled down the side of the pit he was leaning against, causing muddy water to seep into his hair. He shuddered, and Micah laughed.

”See, we’re at low tide right now, but it ain’t gonna be long until the tide comes in, and you’re belly up. How does that sound? Like I said, No mess. Just a pretty sunset.”

Arthur fixed him with a steely glare.

”I’d say that gives you maybe two, three hours to contemplate the life you’ve had.”

He huffed, leaning his head back against the mud. Micah stood up, stretching.

”Well, I guess this is goodbye, pal. I’d say it’s been nice, but... it ain’t.”

He kicked mud into the pit, watching it land on Arthur’s neck as he laughed, walking off.

It was going to be a long few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw this is a full scorpion
> 
> https://www.reddit.com/r/FullScorpion/
> 
> It’s really the only way I could describe it


	6. Chapter 6

 It was deathly hot, and Arthur had managed to shift back a bit, leaning his injured shoulder against the wall. He was fighting with his mind now, struggling to stay conscious, throat rasping with every breath as dehydration tore into him.

He’d always hated Lemoyne. The dead heat, the muggy air, swamps, dust storms, raiders, alligators, the city, all of it was complete shit.

He could hear the gentle waves coming closer, and at least the water trickling into the pit was cool. Even so, it was too much. The pain, the heat, the throbbing of his head. Arthur didn’t want to give up, but he couldn’t think of a way to stay awake, let alone alive. Glancing up at the sky, he noticed a bird circling, than another.

Vultures.

If he was this close to death, there really wasn’t any way to escape it’s grasp.

* * *

 

He awoke with a start. He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep, and he wasn’t sure how long he was out. He wondered briefly how long he had been out until he felt it again. Another wave came pourning into the pit, drenching his hair and letting the mud wall crumble some more.

For a moment, he reveled in the cool moisture, savoring it. He wanted nothing more than just one sip. God, just a single drink.

Another wave poured into the open grave, part of the wall collapsing and sending mud splashing onto his head and chest, and Arthur suddenly fully understood how he was going to die.

_No, not yet._

He attempted to sit up, groaning from the pain and exertion. More mud and water poured in, the mud settling around him in a layer at the bottom. Accepting defeat, he laid back against the wall again to wait.

Whether Arthur was waiting on death or a miracle, he wasn’t sure.

* * *

 

Somehow, he’d managed to drift off again despite the water and mud constantly being dumped on his head. When he came to again, the water was up to his shoulders, and he was buried to his waist. The rate of the rising water had increased tenfold, inching closer to his face by the minute.

His biggest regret was leaving the gang behind. Dutch and Hosea had practically raised him, they’d been the fathers that Lyle never was. He wasn’t sure where he’d be if they hadn’t found him. And even though Dutch had changed a whole hell of alot since that day twenty years ago, becoming more egotistical, desperate, and even paranoid, he and Hosea would be heartbroken.

And John? There was no doubt in his mind that John would blame himself. Somehow, the damned fool would find a way to twist it around and truly believe that his death was his fault. John was his brother, even though they seemed to constantly be at one another’s throats, they’d always been there for eachother. Blood or not, they were family.

Arthur wondered if they’d even know what happened to him.

To top it all off, he realized with a growing dread, there’d be nobody to stop Micah from whatever he intended to do. He’d known full well that Arthur was the only one who saw straight through his shit, and he’d needed to get him out of the way. Reckless and dangerous, there was no telling what horrible things would happen when he gained free reign.

A large wave came crashing into the pit, and that was it. He was submerged.

Arthur used the last bit of strength he had left to hold his breath until his lungs burned. He felt another wave beat down into the hole, and every thought of acceptance is thrown out the window. He didn’t want to die,  _couldn’t_ die yet. Pain be damned, he thrashed, yanking at his bonds despite the agony screaming from his injuries. Arthur flung his eyes open, searching wildly and desperately for an escape. 

It was a losing battle, but he couldn’t care less. He wouldn’t go down without a fight. His body forces him to exhale, and he gasps desperately, inhaling water. His chest is on fire, and it hurts more than anything he’s ever been through.

Darkness crept into the edges of his blurry vision, and just as a shadow blocks out the sunlight, Arthur succumbed to the grip of unconsciousness that had been clawing him into the darkest depths of hell.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> haha look just like I promised i updated r u happy now
> 
> Jk I love all of y’all and this has been so much goddamn fun, ty for all the sweet comments and support!

_“_ Sadie! Get over here!”

Sadie jumped up from where she’d been crouched upon hearing John’s call, inspecting some hoof prints. The panic in his tone told her everything she needed to know.

He’d found Arthur.

She wasted no time hauling ass to the shore, sprinting out of the woods. She half expected to find a damn corpse and was surprised to find John grabbing desperately at something in a pool of water.

”What are you-“

He didn’t even turn to look at her, keeping his wild, frantic gaze locked onto a dark shape in the water as he struggled to find purchase on it.

”He’s in here! Goddammit, get over here and  _help me!_ ”

And then she saw him, and wished she hadn’t.

* * *

 

Sadie had known something was up as soon as Micah returned without Arthur. He’d claimed that the man had gone off to do his own thing after they had robbed a stagecoach outside of strawberry, and of course, Dutch took his story as truth. 

Sadie, however, had been on watch when the pair had left, and she knew for a fact that Micah had told Arthur they were heading to Clemen’s point. It was a definite red flag, but maybe she’d just heard incorrectly. After all, it wasn’t unusual for Arthur to stay out for hours or even days before coming back to camp.

So when Arthur’s beloved horse, Whiskey, trotted into Shady Belle with no rider, she panicked. Something was up. Warning bells were screaming in her head, and she’d alerted John to her suspicions. They’d set out to check Clemen’s point first, and low and behold, the first thing they’d found was Arthur’s signature black gambler hat.

Sadie dropped to her knees in the mud, wasting no time grabbing under Arthur’s armpit and helping John to haul him from the water, grunting with effort. He was already massive, and the added resistance from the mud at the bottom didn’t make the job any easier. Eventually, they managed to get him into the ground and she finally got a proper look at him.

Arthur’s head hung forward, eyes closed. Water dripped from his soaked hair and clothes, mixing with the blood starting to trickle sluggishly from a cut on his forehead. His nose was broken and swollen, one of his eyes were blackened, and his bandana had been tied tightly around his face as a gag. Sadie fumbled to remove it as soon as they laid him down, both of them panting. John, on the other hand, wasn’t much help. He kneeled there, fumbling over his injuries with a mixture of shock, anger, and fear as water trickled from Arthur’s mouth.

”John- John, Does he have a pulse?”

”Wh-What?” He looked up, yanked from his panic.

”Check his fucking pulse, Marston!” She snapped.

Nobody was ever supposed to take anything from her ever again. She refused to lose anyone else she loved. She refused to allow it to happen.

Sadie yanked her knife from her belt, heart pounding. She started to saw away at the bounds on his wrists as best she could, trying not to move him too much as she readjusted his position to reach them. John placed two fingers on his neck, and the two of them held their breath for what felt like ages before John looked up.

”He- christ, it’s still there- he ain’t breathin’-“

”MOVE THEN, he ain’t dyin’ on us yet!” She snapped, jumping into action. She rolled up her sleeves, struggling to unbutton his ruined shirt before giving up and ripping it open. The shock and fury she felt upon seeing the injuries on his torso was short lived as she locked her elbows, placing one hand on top of the other and slamming down onto his sternum, beginning chest compressions.

Just as they began to lose hope, he jerked under her hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol I cant write John or Sadie for shit


End file.
